


Alone

by liztrade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liztrade/pseuds/liztrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 4 months after Reichenbach, John visits Sherlock's grave again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

John sat on the grass in front of Sherlock's grave. Leaves fell from the trees around him, the gentle breeze blowing. It would have been beautiful under different circumstances. John sighed. He'd been here for an hour, yet he hadn't said a word. Nothing he thought could be said. Whenever he tried, the words would be choked, so he bit his tongue and remained silent.

  
John looked up at the sky. It was now or never.

  
“Hi, Sherlock,” he began. Not looking at the cold unfeeling tombstone helped him talk. If he didn't see the grave, there was the possibility that Sherlock wasn't buried beneath it. “How are you? Dumb, question, I know, but I guess I've got to start somewhere. It's, um, it's been four months now. Four months without you. Four months of hell.” He paused and closed his eyes. _You can do this, John_ , he thought to himself.

  
“I'm working a lot,” he continued. “Work keeps me busy. Greg says that I work too much, but I've got to do something. Sitting around makes me anxious. Am I turning into you? You couldn't sit still if you didn't have something to do. I'm not cut out for a normal life, and you showed me how to live. I can't live without you. God, I don't remember the last time I really laughed. Nothing's funny anymore. Everything is so ugly now. Music, nature, life. You were so bloody pessimistic about so much, but you added a kind of life to it.

  
I, um, I see you everywhere, Sherlock. I see you in every little damn thing. I hear the word 'case' and I think of you. Somebody is wearing pink, and I see you talking about the woman in pink. Somebody's eating Chinese food, and I remember the restaurants we ate at. Swimsuits lead to swimming pools, leading to Carl Powers who leads to... to Moriarty, who leads to you. Chemistry. You. The violin. You. Royalty. You. Cufflinks. You. Sherlock, you're everywhere and I can't take it anymore. I just can't.”

  
John clenched his hands into fists, and felt the tears on the edge of his eyes. _C'mon, John, keep it together_. “I know it sounds funny and weird, but I never imagined a life without you. For the majority of my life, I didn't know you existed. We only met two years ago, Sherlock, but you changed my life. It got to the point that when I thought about my life, you were always there. I mean, I went out on dates, but those never worked. They were temporary. I didn't see a future with any of them; only you.” He looked down at the tombstone. “Sherlock Holmes,” he whispered. “It doesn't seem right, does it? That's all that it says. No years, no quotes. Just your name. It doesn't say anything about what you did. You mattered, Sherlock, and in a hundred years, people may have no idea who you were. You were the best man that I ever knew, and they'll never know that.

  
People still believe that you're a fake. I don't. All of that was real. The only thing that wasn't was your suicide. It doesn't make sense. It just... you couldn't have made all of that up. You just couldn't have. You were too smart for that. Too smart for your own good most of the time.”

  
John curled his fingers into the grass. Four months ago there was only dirt where he was sitting. “I miss you. God, I miss you, but missing you isn't going to bring you back.” He bit his lip. “I used to tell you to stop pretending to be dead, but that hasn't worked. Well, now I'm ordering you. Sherlock, come home! It's so empty without you. Please. Come back. I'm so alone without you.”

Wiping away tears, John stood up slowly. He nodded at the grave and turned away.

Sherlock watched him walk across the cemetery and sighed. You may think it's difficult to live without me, John, Sherlock thought, taking a step in the opposite direction, but you have no idea how lonely it is to live without you.


End file.
